Incendiary Device
by TheCatWrites
Summary: Occurs shortly after the events of Ch. 40 in the manga. Roy gets a bad case of depression combined with cabin fever, sneaks out of the hospital and ends up in a bar fight. Liza bails him out, and they end up spending the night together.
1. Rain Dampens the Fire

**DISCLAIMER: THE AUTHOR DOES NOT CLAIM THE RIGHTS TO ANY OF THE CHARACTERS AND/OR PLACES CONNECTED TO THE OFFICIAL FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST STORYLINE MENTIONED IN THE FOLLOWING PIECE AND RECOGNIZES THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS AS HAVING COMPLETE AND TOTAL LEGAL OWNERSHIP OF THE AFOREMENTIONED SERIES AND ALL CANON CHARACTERS ASSOCIATED WITH IT. SO DON'T SUE ME!**

AN: This is my first fic in a while, and my first ever FMA fic, so be gentle! Please review, reviews are ever so wonderful and loved. Also, don't be afraid to offer helpful criticism! I know some moments seem a bit OOC, but as far as I've revised everything they're necessary to make it seem plausible for the character to do something later on. I've only read through chapter 40 of the manga, but I realize there might be spoilers in here for those following only what's been released in the US, so if you don't know what happens you can go to read up, and come back later . P.S. Sorry this first part is so long, later it'll be a much shorter disclaimer and a chapter summary. Also, if you're not a RoyZa fan, you probably won't like this fic.

Summary: Shortly after the events of chapter 40. Roy sneaks out of the hospital to go drinking and ends up in a bar fight. Liza (Riza, to those who prefer the "Engrish" spelling) has to bail him out. Fireworks ensue.

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 1: Rain Dampens the Fire**

Roy lay curled on his good side and watched the rain streaking down the window. The streetlights outside illuminated the room just enough to outline Hawkeye and Havoc's profiles, silhouetted against the glass. Hawkeye had finally fallen asleep in her chair around an hour ago, sometime close to midnight. She had promised to stay up and watch over the two invalids, but she hadn't slept in days and Roy didn't have the heart to wake her.

Havoc stirred and whimpered in his sleep, straining against some invisible enemy. Guilt made Roy's chest ache sharply, and he winced. If only he hadn't hesitated in using that Philosopher's Stone! Healing wasn't a skill he had, but he was smart, he would've been able to figure it out with the help of the stone. But no, instead he'd paused for that split second, worried he'd do more damage instead of helping. And that had been all the homunculus needed to snatch away his one chance at helping his friend. Now she was dead, Havoc was paralyzed, probably for life, and even if he managed to find another homunculus, he didn't know if the nucleus would be located in the same place, or even if he could get a Stone away long enough to get it to Havoc.

Outside, the rain picked up, banging against the windows. Hawkeye half-woke at the sound, checked her surroundings, and allowed herself to drift back to sleep when she was satisfied that both of her charges were still there. Roy found himself staring at her, wondering what her hair would feel like…he shook his head. Fraternization in the ranks of the military was forbidden, and besides, Liza would probably shoot him if he even thought about…wait a minute, did he just call her Liza instead of Hawkeye? Where'd that come from?

_It's the depression talking_, he told himself sternly, _I need to get out, have a drink, get away from these two so I can forget for a while_. It was true, after all. The sight of Hawkeye and Havoc, still so loyal to him after all they'd gone through for his sake, brought up feelings that he'd rather try to drown than confront.

Careful not to wake Hawkeye, Roy eased himself slowly out of bed and into a standing position. He tested his range of movement and found that as long as he didn't put too much strain on his left leg, he could move almost normally. Still being as quiet as possible, he pulled on a pair of jeans and one of his uniform shirts from the neatly folded pile of clothes lying on the table next to his bed. He slipped his watch and a pair of gloves into his pocket, then tied his bootlaces together and gripped them between his teeth. Giving a quick thanks that their room was on the second floor and not higher, he climbed up on the windowsill and opened the window just wide enough to get through. Swinging onto a drainpipe that ran near the window, he pulled it nearly shut, leaving it barely open so that he'd be able to let himself back in. He slid down the pipe, pulled on his boots, and set off for the nearest bar. _Three drinks_, he figured, _one for each friend I've hurt on this damned crusade of mine. Then I'll come back and get back in bed. Liza will never know I was gone._


	2. Alcohol Feeds the Flames

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T CLAIM RIGHTS TO ANY CANON FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CHARACTERS OR CONCEPTS**

A/N: Hope you all liked chapter one! Since I wrote much of this fic before it was posted and I know the agony of having to wait to find out what happens, I don't get to wait for your reviews before I post the next few chapters. As usual, sorry for anything you don't like, but no flames! (pun intended .) Instead, calmly and with correct grammar and spelling tell me what you think I could improve. You'd be surprised how far that gets you in life J! Please read and review! Reviews are the incentive that keeps us writers going!

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 2: Alcohol Feeds the Flames**

Neon loomed out of the darkness on his left, but Roy passed the first bar by. If anybody did start looking for him, it would be the obvious choice. Besides, it was brightly lit and full of people, and he wanted to be somewhere quiet and alone.

Roy found what he was looking for, a smaller bar with only about ten people inside, a block away and across the street from the first bar. He entered, shivering a little as air conditioning hit his wet skin. Even though it was raining, it was still a hot summer night outside, and the bartender had cranked the AC up to full-blast. Roy found himself a bar stool far enough away from the other patrons for his comfort and rapped his knuckles on the countertop to get the barkeep's attention.

"What'll ya have?" the bartender asked. Somewhere behind the counter, a radio was on, tuned to the news station with the volume down low. The patrons were all keeping any conversation quiet, out of courtesy for any who wanted to listen to what was going on in the world.

"Straight scotch, double," Roy replied. The bartender raised an eyebrow at his tone, but served up the drink with no comments. Roy took a large sip, sighing as the alcohol burned down his throat. He stared at the amber liquid as if he could will it to spontaneously break into song and dance and give him the answers to questions he didn't know how to ask. No musical enlightenment was forthcoming, however, and Roy wasn't one to let perfectly good scotch go to waste. _This one's for you, Liza. I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this,_ he said to himself, raising the glass ever so slightly in a toast before downing the rest of the drink. "Gimme another," he told the barkeep, who obliged. _This one's for you, Jean. I'm sorry I'm such a coward._ He nursed his way through the second glass, half-listening to the radio. The barkeep refilled his glass for a second time without being asked. _And this one's for you, Maes…_Roy blinked rapidly. The alcohol was making his eyes water…yeah, that was it. _Maes…I'm sorry…_it was no good, he couldn't finish the thought. He chugged the whole glass in two big gulps.

It was at that precise moment that his ears chose to focus in on what the radio was saying, because they'd heard his name, "…Factory Facility Three. Two military personnel were injured, including Mustang himself, but inquiries as to any deaths were met with 'no comment…'"

"Ain't that just the way," said the bartender conversationally, leaning against the counter near where Mustang sat. "Them military hounds are out killin' innocent folk on the pretense of them bein' terrorists an' all, while the real criminals get off scot-free."

Roy wasn't inclined to disagree at the moment, though he was happy that the man hadn't recognized him out of uniform. Instead, he held his glass out for another refill, which was drained almost as fast as it was poured.

The barkeep looked thoughtful, "An' I tell ya what else, that Mustang, he's th' worst of all of 'em, from what I hear. They's stories flyin' around 'bout him that make me wonder if he's got any capacity for emotion at all."

A pause indicated that the barkeep was expecting a reply. "Stories like what?" Roy mumbled, resting his chin on his arm. He really wasn't in the mood to talk. His side hurt, and the scotch had barely even begun to take effect. He took a sip from his drink, wondering how many this was, and not really caring.

"Well, rumor 'round Central nowadays is that he uses his sub-ordinate officers like shields," said the barkeep, failing to notice the tension that rippled through Roy's body at this statement, "No two versions I ever heard were alike, but three of 'em seem to agree pretty well: first, that he let a lady officer of his get in harm's way when he was usin' her as bait to catch a serial killer."

Roy's fingers twitched. That was a dirty lie! Liza…Hawkeye had volunteered for that mission, and nobody could have known that the homunculi were going to show up, least of all Mustang! And he'd gone against orders to save her!

"Th' second story," continued the oblivious bartender, "says that he let one of his most loyal officers take a hit for him while they were fightin' a known murderer, and th' kid's gonna be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

The feeling of his gloves in his pocket made Roy's skin tingle. He wanted to toast this guy, but he knew he couldn't…

Unaware of how thin a line he was walking, the barkeep plowed on, "But th' last one, that's a doozy! Th' story goes that this Mustang character, he just stood by an' watched while his best friend was killed, unable to move 'cause he was so scared! An' the guy who died supposedly has a wife and ki – GAAAACK!" The bartender cut off his story abruptly as Roy lunged across the counter and gripped his collar in a fist, lifting him off the ground.

"Those stories are _lies_," he growled, tugging the man close to him and staring into his eyes, "every. last. one."

The bartender whimpered, unable to look away. A flicker of his captive's gaze was all the warning Roy had before a pool cue caught him across the shoulders. He winced, swearing, and dropped the barkeep, spinning to face his attacker.

Ten burly patrons, the regulars at this bar, were lined up in a semicircle surrounding Roy. One of them held the broken pool cue that was the source of Roy's throbbing back. All of them held something large and blunt that they looked very much like they wanted to hit him with. "Look, boys," he said, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, "I'm not here looking for trouble."

"Well, you found it anyway," said the man holding the broken cue. He tossed it away and pulled a fresh one from a rack nearby. "If you don't want trouble, I suggest you don't go around roughin' up innocent men like my buddy George there. Now, you apologize to him, and then we can all go home."

Roy laughed. Apologize? After this man had taken three of his friends and painted them, and him, as incompetent, cowardly bullies? "Yeah, right," he smirked, pulling on his gloves.

"What're those for, nancy boy?" Taunted another patron, "Don't wanna get your hands dirty?"

Adrenaline had washed most of the effects of the alcohol from his system, and Roy was ready for some action, "Just the opposite," he said as the first attacker lunged at him with the pool cue. Roy stepped neatly sideways, caught the cue in one hand, and set it on fire. While his antagonists were all gaping in surprise, he took the opportunity to set fire to any wooden cues or bar stools that the others were holding as well. As soon as they dropped the burning weapons he snuffed the flames.

Hand-to-hand had never really been Roy's forté, but even slowed down by his wound the fact remained that he was military trained and they weren't. A few of the attackers managed to get in some good punches, but as long as he protected his left side and was careful not to set anyone on fire, Roy held the upper hand. Within a few minutes, six of the men were lying dazed on the floor. Of the remaining four, only two looked like they could be trouble. Roy had faced and overcome far worse odds. He was about to take down one of the four remaining antagonists when he heard the crash of glass, followed by a splitting pain in the back of his skull and the sensation of liquid splashing over his head.

Of course, it was just like him to forget about the barkeep.


	3. HawkEyed Guardian

**DISCLAIMER: I LAY NO CLAIM TO ANY MONETARY OR INTELLECTUAL RIGHTS REGARDING THE CANON FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CHARACTERS AND CONCEPTS, NOR AM I GAINING PROFIT FROM THIS FANFICTION**

A/N: See, this is where I start getting nervous and say to myself, "Oh my gods, what if everybody hates it! What if I've spent so much time on this thing that I think people will like only to create something that everybody except myself can see is total BS! AAAAUGH!" Because writing a fic in a straight shot like this, without reviews to go on, is a big risk in the fanfiction world, since feedback is necessary to fix problems the readers might have with characterization or plot events. I know many fanfic authors cling desperately to their original writing and would probably refuse to change it even if Jesus appeared unto them and asked real nice, and I understand that line of thought, but since I want to actually write for a living someday I have to be able to see what people like and don't like about my style…but I'm rambling, and it's five AM, and I should let/force you all get on with reading/hating my wonderful/crappy fanfic. Once again, please review, and don't be afraid to criticize politely!

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 3: Hawk-Eyed Guardian**

Stunned by the impact of the bottle, Roy swayed on his feet, trying desperately not to fall over. He tasted something metallic and realized that the injury to the back of his head had made his nose start bleeding. Dodging a few more attacks, Roy tried to work his way toward the door, but before he had time to shake off the blurriness caused by the bottle hitting his skull one of the largest patrons had slipped an arm around his neck and was holding the jagged edge of the bottle dangerously close to his eye.

"Now," growled the man, squeezing his arm nearly tight enough to cut off Roy's air, "I believe we asked you to apologize to George, here."

Roy spat blood onto the floor, "He's the one who should apologize."

"What for? For telling the truth about that military-dog Colonel and his coward bully lackeys? Those incompetent sons-of-bitches should apologize to us, for wastin' our time with useless inquisitions while murderers are runnin' free in our streets!

Rage coursed through Roy's body, the kind of rage he hadn't felt in a long time. He twisted in the attacker's grip. "_God damn you to hell, bastards!"_ he screamed, holding his hand in front of him, fingers poised to send them all there.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the direction of the door. The man holding Roy cursed and let go, dropping the bottle as well and clutching his hand. "Nobody move!" The commanding female voice froze all movement in the bar. Liza Hawkeye walked calmly into the middle of the mess, blue uniform spotted with rain from her search for the Colonel. She kept her pistol and her gaze locked on the man who'd had Roy in a headlock when she arrived, glancing at the Colonel as she moved nearer to him. Her superior was obviously struggling to stay on his feet, and definitely the worse for wear.

"Please remove your gloves, sir," she said quietly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Roy did as he was told, tucking the weapons back into his pocket as Hawkeye lectured the startled bartender and patrons, "The military offers its apologies for the misbehavior of one of its officers in your establishment, and will pay in full all repair and medical bills. Please contact me with addresses so that we may send you the money and also," she paused, her amber eyes flashing dangerously, "to learn the truth behind those vicious rumors you have been helping to spread. The military does not target the innocent. Remember that. Call Central Headquarters and ask for First Lieutenant Elizabeth Hawkeye when you wish to receive your checks."

Hawkeye kept the pistol trained on the room with one hand. With the other, she took Roy's arm, draped it around her shoulders, and supported him as they left the bar.

Once they were safely outside and away from the bar, Hawkeye holstered her gun and instructed Roy to stand on his own for a moment. Briskly, she removed her overcoat and draped it over his shoulders. Though a bit small, it was warm and helped to protect him from the rain. Finished, she pulled him back toward her and they set off in the direction of the hospital.

By the time they reached the hospital grounds, Roy's adrenaline rush had worn off and he was feeling the effects of the half-bottle of scotch he'd drunk and the beating he'd taken. As such, he didn't immediately register that Hawkeye had asked him a question.

"Huh?" he said, concentrating on the ground in front of him.

"I said, how did you manage to get the night nurse to let you out?"

Roy thought about this for a moment, then remembered, "Didn' let me out…went out the window."

Hawkeye stopped abruptly, causing Roy to trip over his own feet and nearly fall. She was staring him with an unreadable expression on her face. "Damn…well, I guess you'll be in lockup wing after this."

Fear shot through Roy at the idea of being confined to bed any longer than he had to be, making him almost lucid again, "No, doan' tell!" he begged, "Couldn' stand bein' locked up, barely stood bein' confined t' my room!"

About to give Mustang a good talking-to about responsibility and accepting the consequences of your actions, Liza paused when she saw the look in his eyes. It was true, she reflected. The Colonel hated being stuck inside for more than a day or two. Being forced to stay in the hospital for a week had nearly…well, not nearly, had _actually_ driven him crazy. If he had to stay in solitary lock-up, confined to bed, while he recovered from this latest misdemeanor, he could end up even worse than he was now. The only other time she'd seen him this bad was right after Hughes…

Hawkeye shook her head as a groan of misery from Roy brought her back to the present dilemma. "Fine," she said, "I'll give in this time, but only because I know you're right. My apartment is close to here and I have a car in the parking lot. I'll take you to my place and we can get you cleaned up."

Slowly, Hawkeye helped Roy turn in the direction of the parking lot and limp toward her car. He made it to the vehicle, leaned against the side, slumped down to the ground and passed out. Hawkeye sighed, opened the passenger door, and heaved him into the car, being as careful as she possibly could. _It's a good thing_, she reflected, _that I weight train for the obstacle course, or I'd be out of luck._

Once Roy was secured with his seatbelt, Liza closed the passenger door and got into the driver's seat. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly down the streets until her eyes got used to the dark. Even with the headlights, the rain obscured almost everything outside of a ten-foot radius. It looked like the storm would get heavier as the day went on, rather than clearing up as predicted.


	4. Just Like the War Days

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO FMA, NOR DO I CLAIM TO.**

A/N: Got two reviews, both were good, which made me feel great! Thanks!

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 4: Just Like the War Days**

Hawkeye parked the car in the street in front of her apartment building. She figured it would be safe there, since the military insignia on the doors would discourage all but the most desperate of thieves. Using the light from a nearby streetlamp, she checked her watch. Two in the morning. Good, there was still plenty of time to think up a way to keep the Colonel out of both trouble and the hospital, at least for the moment. Getting him up the stairs, however…

Gazing up at the apartment building, Hawkeye shook her head. There were no elevators in the building where she lived, and she was on the fifth floor. _And as cute as he is when he's sleeping_, she thought, _I am _not_ carrying him up…wait, what did I just…?_ "Slip of the mind, Hawkeye," she muttered to herself in her best commanding-officer voice, "You're tired, that's all."

Trying to think of a way to wake the Colonel up, Hawkeye remembered the fear of her marksmanship that she'd instilled in the Colonel and his subordinates. Sure enough, the mere sound of her handgun's safety being turned off was enough to wake the Colonel up, and they began the long, arduous trek up the stairs. It took twenty minutes, but she finally got him through the door of her apartment.

Black Hayate stood from where he'd been watching the front door, shook himself, and trotted over to investigate. He licked Roy's hand and barked, wagging his tail uncertainly. Roy moaned pitifully. Liza shut the door with one foot and held a finger to her lips, whispering, "Hush, Hayate. His head probably hurts enough as it is. Go wait in the kitchen." Hayate whined, cast one last concerned look at the Colonel, and walked dejectedly to the kitchen, lying down with his nose on the threshold that separated the linoleum kitchen floor from the carpeted living room.

Hawkeye guided the Colonel down the short hallway to the bathroom. Her apartment was fairly large, one of the few luxuries she'd allowed herself when she was promoted to First Lieutenant and given the pay raise that came with the position. The front door opened into a large living room area, part of which was separated from the rest by a screen that could be rolled back to reveal the dining table. The kitchen, through a door in the left wall of the living room, was well-stocked and furnished with all the modern conveniences, as well as a table that served as her everyday eating area. To the right of the living room was a short hallway leading to her bedroom. On the left side of this hallway was a large linen closet, and on the right a spacious bathroom.

Once she got him into the bathroom, Hawkeye lowered Roy gently to the tiled floor. She pulled off his boots and put them in the corner of the room to be dealt with later. First was the business of getting his fresh injuries taken care of. "Just like the war days," she muttered as she pulled off her jacket and tossed it into the hall, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

First, she had to check and see if he'd reopened his original wounds. She pulled her overcoat from around his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt, her movements brisk and businesslike. She grimaced at the burn marks over his ribs on the left side, but other than a small bruise forming over his collarbone she saw no fresh injuries. Getting Roy to cooperate as much as she could, Liza pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. An angry red welt was beginning to show across the tops of his shoulders. The way it was tapered at one end made her suspect he'd been hit across the back with a pool cue.

Without warning, his nosebleed started back up again. Liza coaxed him into a crouching position over the edge of the bathtub, a tissue held tight to his nose while she tended to the scratches on the back of his neck he'd sustained when the bartender had hit him with the bottle. She got up and found a washcloth in the linen cabinet across the hall, then ran the bath full of hot water. "This is going to sting," she warned before gently swiping the hot washcloth over his neck and shoulders, cleaning away the blood. Roy mumbled something that may have been a curse, but otherwise submitted to her ministrations.

Liza was getting seriously worried about him. Before, whether in Ishbal or elsewhere, when she had to clean him up like this he'd usually complain the whole time. This time, though, he'd been unusually subdued ever since she agreed not to take him back to the hospital. Granted, he'd been unconscious about half the time, but still…

"Okay sir, I want you to dunk your head in the bathtub. It'll hurt like hell, to give fair warning, but I need your hair clean so I can see if any bits of glass got stuck in your head."

Roy nodded, tossed the bloody tissue into the trashcan, and leaned forward until the top of his head was in the tub. This time he did curse, though not perhaps as explicitly as he normally would have.

Liza reached in and gently swirled the water around, creating a current to wash any blood from his hair. The bathwater tinged slightly pink, but not as bad as it could have been. "You can sit up now," she told him, and he did so gratefully.

Hawkeye stood again momentarily to fetch a towel from the linen closet. She came back with a large, fluffy, green towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, then reached in and pulled the plug on the bathtub. "Go to my room and wait for me there," she instructed, pointing him in the right direction.


	5. Hide it From Yourself

**THIS IS A DISCLAIMER. INSERT NECESSARY LEGALESE HERE.**

A/N: Whee, Chapter five! R and R as usual, and don't be shy about criticism! Of course, you shouldn't be overly hostile, either.

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 5: Hide it From Yourself**

Soaking his head had done wonders for Roy's sobriety, though his headache was worse than ever. Thankfully, his nose seemed to have finally stopped bleeding for good. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, _Her bed_, the little voice in his mind told him. He quickly shooed that thought away as Hawkeye came in carrying an assortment of tubes, bottles, and boxes, as well as a pair of tweezers, a glass of water, and a pie pan. She arranged the stuff on the bedside table and crossed the room to the bureau. As she rummaged through drawers, Roy noticed that the front and sleeves of her shirt were spotted with red. _Blood,_ his mind registered, still sluggish, _my blood._

Hawkeye left the room again, and Roy heard the sound of water running. When she came back, she was barefoot and dressed in loose plaid flannel pants and a white tank top. Pajamas. She yawned as she sat beside him on the bed, and he noticed that her hair was down. For a split second, his brain dared to hope, but he squashed the thought and chalked it up to the residual effects of drinking half a bottle of scotch and being hit over the head with the rest.

"Sit on the floor in front of me, sir," said Hawkeye. Roy did as he was told. He heard the sound of paper ripping, then the familiar "plop, plop, fizz, fizz" of Alka Seltzer. A moment later the glass of water, now bubbling merrily away, was held in front of him. "Drink this, sir," he heard Hawkeye say from behind and above him, "or you'll have a wicked hangover in the morning." He noted dispiritedly that she'd gone back to formal military language, but barely had time to remind himself that his feelings for Liza were against the rules before he felt a sharp sting from somewhere above his eyebrow.

"Ow!" he complained, "What the hell was that?"

Hawkeye grinned, relieved that he was finally starting to show signs of his normal behavior. She dropped the tiny glass shard into the pie pan, "That was me picking glass out of your head, sir. Unless you'd rather I leave it in…?" She left the ending of the statement open, like she was really considering doing so.

Roy winced at the thought of what stray glass slivers could do to his head, "No, no, carry on. I'll stop complaining," he said. Truth to tell, Hawkeye's skill as a marksman gave her a sensitive touch, so it really didn't hurt that much. He sipped at the water. It was icy cold, and felt good after having to spend so long crouched over the hot bathwater.

Liza tried to be as gentle as possible in finding the souvenirs of Roy's encounter with "hard alcohol," combing her fingers through his thick black hair with as much delicacy as she would have used on a hair trigger. Roy appreciated the effort. Having her hands run over his scalp felt pretty nice, actually, at least when she wasn't pulling bits of glass out of it. When she finally finished, she had deposited no less than thirty-one tiny glass slivers in the pie pan. "And I hate to tell you this, sir," she said as she took them into the kitchen to throw away, "but I suspect you'll be finding more in weeks to come. Don't try to pull them out yourself, though. You could just end up working them in deeper. I'll carry some tweezers around with me for a while, so just remember where they are and I'll get them when no one's looking."

Roy almost asked why somebody else couldn't do it when he remembered, "The need for secrecy is because you and I are the only two military personnel who know about this, right?" He asked when she came back in.

She nodded, taking her place on the bed again, "Havoc knows too, at least, he knows you left and I went to find you. You left the window open, which woke him up, and he woke me up when he noticed you were gone." She handed him four pills, two red and two white. "Acetaminophen and iron supplements," she informed him, "For the headache and the blood loss."

He took the pills and submitted to her next round of ministrations, which consisted of a cotton swab and rubbing alcohol. She cleaned out the cuts on his scalp and neck, and swiped over the red mark across his shoulders too, just to be safe. Who knew what kind of germs lurked on a pool cue? Roy suffered the stinging in silence, though. Something was bothering him.

"Back at the bar," he finally ventured, "when you were telling those guys to expect recompense from the military…I mean, you aren't planning to tell anybody, are you?"

Liza paused her inspection of the bruise on his collarbone to process this, "Huh? Oh, no sir. You see, from all the years I've been patching you, Havoc, Falman, Fury, and everybody else up with field dressings, I've become a fair judge of the severity of injuries. The total hospital bill from everybody you took out, while a study in pain, should be no more than one to two hundred dollars. Added to that would be the stuff you burned or broke, which appeared to be little more than pool sticks and bar stools. All told, it shouldn't come to more than three hundred or three-fifty. If I give up buying books and dessert for a month, I can cover that cost easily."

This took a while to sink in, but when Roy finally understood what Liza was offering to do, it took all of his self-control not to turn around and stare at her. "Are you crazy?" He asked, "You're going to pay for something I did? I refuse to accept that. I'll pay."

Liza sighed. She could tell he wouldn't take no for an answer, "Alright. But at least let me pay the bill for the guy I shot in the hand, sir."

Roy shook his head, "The whole thing was my fault, beginning to end. You've done more than enough already, L-Lieutenant." Roy's mouth went dry and he finished off the glass of fizzy water. He'd nearly called her _Liza_.

If Liza noticed the stutter, she didn't let on. "There's still more to do, sir. Even if mollifying the bartender and the patrons will be relatively easy, there's still the matter of the hospital." Finished disinfecting, Liza began the last stage of her work. She applied antibacterial cream and a strip of waterproof medical tape to each cut, as well as antihistamines to keep them from itching.

Roy's trademark smirk crept back onto his face, "I suppose you have a plan for that too, Lieutenant?"

"Actually sir, I do. If you're feeling up to it, we could go back to the hospital in the morning and you could go back in the way you left, through the window. Then I could come in and sign you and Havoc out."

"That sounds good…did you say me _and_ Havoc?"

"Yes, sir. He was deemed ready for release yesterday. He'd also like you to know that he'll keep the secret about where you were tonight, and you're invited to his retirement party, and he'd like some help remodeling his house. Finished," Liza said, gathering the medical supplies from her bedside table and heading out the door to put them away.

When she reached the bathroom, Liza leaned against the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. "Lieutenant," she said quietly, "fraternization among fellow officers in the military is strictly forbidden. It doesn't matter how cute he looks when he's off-guard, there's no way in hell you'd get away with it and that's that. Besides, he probably doesn't even think of you in the same way." She gave herself one last hard stare to make sure the lesson would stick, then walked back into the hallway. She stopped before she got to her door, though. Clothes, he'd need clean clothes. Where would she get…oh, right. She had some in her car from doing his laundry the other day. If there was one thing that hospital needed, it was a laundromat within a reasonable distance.

Roy stayed seated on the floor, unsure whether he should follow Hawkeye or stay put. He figured staying was the safer option. While he waited for Liza's return, he pondered Havoc's situation. He could understand being depressed about such a life-changing event, certainly, but to retire from the military at such a young age, and with so much talent…_and it's all your fault, coward_ came that pernicious little voice again, but before it could really start in on him Liza returned carrying a rolled-up bundle of clothes. Her hair and the tops of her shoulders were wet, and the little voice in Roy's head switched from blaming him to wanting her. _God, I wish that stupid rule didn't exist! But it does. It doesn't matter how beautiful she looks when she's off-guard, you'd never get away with it. Besides, she probably doesn't even think of me like that._


	6. Rules Are Made, But For What?

**DISCLAIMER, INDEED.**

A/N: This is the last completed chapter I'll have for a while, life's about to get a bit hectic. Until then, you'll have to be content with the "false ending" I stuck in there. Unlike "Return of the King," however, this will be the only false ending in this piece. . R and R, until we next meet, farewell!

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 6: Rules are Made, But for What?**

"It's only three thirty in the morning, sir, and from the way you look and the way I feel we both need sleep. I've got some pajamas and clean clothes here for you, you can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch. I'll set my alarm for six AM, which gives us plenty of time to get you back to the hospital before the nurses check beds at seven."

Roy stood, shaking his head, "I'll take the couch. It's your house, and you've done enough for me already."

Amused by this sudden bout of chivalry, Liza decided there was only one way to make the Colonel come to his senses, "Look, you have two options: You in the bed and me on the couch, or both of us in the bed. Either way, you're the injured one, you're the one who needs an actual bed."

_Oh, sweet mother of god,_ the voice in Roy's head moaned, _the last thing I need right now is her making suggestions like that!_ He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Okay, I yield! You're a markswoman with words as well as firearms, I see." He grinned and held a hand out for the clothes, which she handed over.

"Good night, sir. I'll wake you at six thirty for breakfast." Liza barely gave him time to reply, "good night," before she turned and left, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the linen closet on the way to the living room. Her face felt hot, she was sure that she was blushing furiously. _I can't believe I said that!_ She thought, and then, _but it's almost too bad he didn't pick the other option…what am I thinking!_ Tired, that was it, she was tired. She hadn't had more than a few hours of sleep in the past week, after all. It was fatigue talking, plain and simple. Liza made herself a nest on the couch, snuggled under her blankets, and shut her eyes. Sleep-deprivation ensured that she was out within minutes.

Roy changed into the pajamas Liza had brought him, cotton drawstring pajama pants and an old military academy shirt that were soft enough not to aggravate his injuries. He remembered seeing a laundry hamper in the bathroom and went looking for it. A little guilty about imposing on Hawkeye's time, he stuffed his pants into the hamper to join his shirt and socks. He wandered back to the bedroom, tired but curious to see what kind of life Hawkeye led at home.

The walls of the hallway were bare, but there was a painting of a house on a tropical beach hanging above the bed. Various certificates and awards were grouped on the wall above the bureau, most of them for sharpshooting, a few for being wounded in combat, and one that said simply, "outstanding service." The really extraordinary thing about the room, though, was the books. There were three huge bookshelves against one wall, but those had reached maximum capacity long ago. Books were absolutely everywhere, in no order that Roy could discern. Fantasy novels crowned stacks of medical reference books, art anthologies stood shelved next to murder mysteries, play scripts and paperback romances fought for ground next to history books and travel guides. Every book looked as though it had been read at least twice.

Amazed that Hawkeye could possibly find the time to read all of these, Roy walked across the floor and stood staring at the bed, _her bed, shut up brain_. He tried reasoning with himself aloud, "It's a bed, she's not in it, I'm tired and it won't do anybody any good if I get no sleep at all." That helped a little, and he climbed in under the covers. The bed was soft, with high thread-count sheets and a down comforter. For somebody who was so experienced with rough conditions, Liza certainly had luxurious taste. He vaguely remembered her talking about a few "concessions to vanity" when she got her promotion, she might've mentioned her room as one of them. He couldn't really remember, but made a mental note to ask in the morning as he turned out the light.

Turning onto his right side, Roy caught a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye. He reached out and pulled the hair, fine as a silk thread, from beside the pillow. Cursing himself for a sentimental fool, he pulled his dogtags from beneath his shirt and wrapped the hair around the chain, knotting it securely at the ends. He stared at the wall for fifteen minutes and didn't notice when he fell asleep.

Sounds of movement coming from the main room woke Roy from a strange dream in which he was surrounded by fire that he couldn't control. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, but when his brain finally caught up with the night's events so far he sat up, yawning. The clock said 5:00, still an hour until Liza said she'd wake up. So why was somebody awake in the living room? Curiosity won out over the need for the extra hour of sleep, and Roy stood and made his way quietly down the hall.

The couch stood in the middle of the living room, facing away from Roy's current position. He could see the top of Liza's head and realized she was awake, listening to the news on the radio. He knew he should say something to alert her to his presence, but he didn't really want to. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching her.

Hayate, still confined to the kitchen, noticed Roy's presence. He wuffed and wagged his tail, happy to see Roy up and about. Liza jumped, startled, and turned to face Roy.

"Hawkeye, you should really get some sleep…" Roy trailed off when he saw that Hawkeye's eyes were red-rimmed, as if from crying. "Is something wrong?"

Shaking her head, Liza turned off the radio. She couldn't let him find out she'd been crying. Besides, it had only been a stupid nightmare. "I'm fine, sir. I couldn't sleep, that's all."

Roy grinned and shook his head, "Shame, an officer lying to her superior," he teased. When that got him nothing but a raised eyebrow, he became serious. "Listen, Hawkeye, you know me well enough by now to know that I can tell when something's wrong. If it's anything that would affect your ability to perform your duties, I should know."

Liza couldn't help it, she started to laugh. It was the hysterical laughter of somebody pushed to the edge of reason. "Interfere with…with my duties!" She gasped, "S-sir, you have no idea!" Inside, she was screaming at herself, _Get a grip, Hawkeye! What's wrong with you?_ Of course, she knew exactly what was wrong, and as she admitted it to herself the laughter turned into tears. She sank down on the couch, hiding her face in her pillow.

For a few minutes, Roy could do nothing but stare as his Lieutenant broke down. Finally, the shock of seeing the normally calm, collected Liza lose her self-control wore off, and he crossed the room to sit beside her on the couch. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Tell me what's wrong, Liza."

The pillow muffled Liza's reply, so that all Roy heard was, "…against the rules."

"What's against the rules?" He asked.

She raised her head and stared at the floor as she repeated, "Fraternization among officers in the military is against the rules."

The meaning of this statement hit Roy like a sledgehammer, stunning him more effectively than the bottle he'd been hit over the head with earlier. As such, all he could do was stare at Hawkeye as she looked up, searching his face for any sign that her feelings were reciprocated. Finding none, she smiled wryly. "You must be disgusted with me, sir. I don't blame you, of course. After all, it's unbecoming of an officer to allow herself to-!" The self-deprecating tirade Liza had been starting was cut short by Roy's passionate kiss.


	7. INTERMISSION

**INTERMISSION**

Taking this opportunity to make a quick reply to all the comments I've gotten so far!

Xeledwhenx: Thanks for your review! It's wonderful to get a first review that's positive!

IMBSA: Enabled anonymous reviews, thanks for pointing that out.

Hola-Meg-A-Cola: Indeed, she would be listening to the radio, and I have no idea why I typed TV except that it was very late and I was possibly not as awake as I could have been. Anyway, I edited that. Thanks!

RocKofAgeS::blush: Goodness! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Thank you!

Lt. Hawkeye: Yes, it took me a while to get used to it too. But her full name's Elizabeth, and while Arucard's name in Hellsing really is Arucard, with the "r", I found out that Riza's name, while accepted both ways, is really supposed to be Liza.

Shadowkeepre: Thanks! It shouldn't be _too_ long, since getting settled in at school this year won't be too hard.

Obey the Fluff: S'alright, the whole Liza/Riza thing is really a matter of whether one started on the manga or the anime first. Either way works, and thanks to the Japanese l/r pronunciations, they're both about the same.


	8. Part 2 Preview

**A/N: HI EVERYBODY!**

**I'm letting you all know that I'm ALIVE, despite all of my school's efforts to the contrary, and I'm actually almost done with the next installment! This is a teaser to tide you over:**

"ROY!" She screamed into the headset, running toward the derelict factory, "The building's wired to explode! Get out of there, _now_!"

The next thing she knew, she was blown back by the shockwaves of the explosion. She rolled down the hill, trying her best to curl up and protect her head and neck, but all she could really do was wait until she got to the bottom. When she finally stopped rolling, she lay at the bottom of the hill, trying to ascertain if she had any serious injuries. She was in shock, her ears ringing from being so close to the explosion, her body aching from the pummeling the rocky hillside had given her, and her mind was working sluggishly, trying to understand what had happened.

She levered herself to her hands and knees, then rose unsteadily to her feet, trying to rub the dirt out of her eyes. She looked up the hill, expecting to see…she didn't know what. The towers of the factory were no longer visible, replaced by a huge column of black smoke.

**That's all for now! I should be done with the installment (looks like it's going to be 2-3 chapters) within the week!**


	9. Sorry Readers! I'll Do Better, I Promise

**Hnnnnraaaaaarmguh…Stop the wooooorld I wanna get off…o.O Right after I posted my preview, life ATE ME. My computer died, I had to finish my college apps two weeks sooner than planned, and then midterms came along and beat me about the head and neck with a pointy stick…unfortunately, much of part 2 was lost in the ether and is currently being retyped. But have faith! I have not forgotten thee! It's all calmed down now, and I'm workin' workin' on redoing what I had and finishing up so I can post part 2 and _maybe_ (don't get your hopes up) part 3!**


	10. Morning Light

**Disclaimer, yo, 'cause I really, REALLY don't want to get sued.**

A/N: OH GOD IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME. Almost a YEAR?! Oh Gods T.T I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! As a reader myself I know how aggravating it is when writers do this! The Muse LEFT me for the longest time and I didn't want to give you guys something low quality, but now it's back, baby! Right, on with the show.

Also, as a side note, I went to Anime Boston and was on the volunteer staff. I got put on guard duty at Travis Willingham's panel. He's a really nice guy, but some of his fangirls are SCARY! There was one girl who, I swear to god, was getting ready to jump onto the stage. Luckily, I managed to catch her eye and shake my head, so she just asked her question and sat down. But I can't help but wonder, why would someone do that? Celebrities, no matter how nice they are to their fans, are still people, with personal space rights that others should respect.

P.S. I should be shot for this chapter title, but I couldn't think of anything less cliché.

**Incendiary Device**

**Chapter 7: Morning Light**

Roy awoke with a hangover. It wasn't the worst one he'd ever had, but it wasn't much fun, either. So far, a routine morning for the Colonel. He rubbed his eyes and started to sit up. A weight on top of him stopped his movement and he looked down, startled. The sight of golden hair greeted him, and he realized he was looking at the top of Liza's head.

Disoriented, he took stock of his surroundings. He and Liza were lying on her bed, on top of the blankets, him on his back and her on top of him. Memories of the previous night, fuzzy and fragmented, came back to his sluggish mind. After confessing their feelings for each other, they'd moved from the couch into her room, where they'd talked for a little while and then simply fallen asleep, too tired to do anything else.

Liza's alarm clock clicked over to 6:15 and went off. She reached out with one hand and hit it, turning it off without opening her eyes in what was obviously a reflex response. Roy watched as she yawned, rubbed her eyes, and noticed that something wasn't quite normal. She looked up and met his eyes briefly before looking away, blushing. The look on her face made Roy chuckle. It all seemed too good to be real. He was afraid that if he broke this moment, it would evaporate, turn out to all have been a dream, but he couldn't resist reaching out to her. He hesitantly ran a hand through her hair, whispering, "Good morning, Lieutenant."

Liza looked as unsure as Roy felt, but she smiled back at him and leaned into his hand. "You too, Sir. How're you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good for someone who got hit over the head with a bottle of scotch."

Liza rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off of him, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "It's good to hear you back to normal, sir."

Roy sat up as well, swinging his legs off the side and leaning against her. "We should get back soon, before anyone else notices I'm gone…"

Liza nodded, eyes unfocused and still a little sleepy, not looking at anything in particular. "You're right…"

They were silent for a while, neither knowing what to say or do, but content to sit with each other until something presented itself. Eventually, Liza broke the silence. "Sir, we can't…I mean, we'd both be kicked out, and the military needs people like us, especially since there's definitely something wrong, based on what happened at the warehouse…"

Roy silenced her with a finger on her lips. "I know, Lieutenant, believe me I know. But right now, I'm too hungover and sore to make any plans about what to do. Let's just…take it one step at a time."

Liza nodded, then slid off the bed and stretched her hands toward the ceiling, working the kinks out of her back and limbs. "I guess the first step would be to get you back so you can get released later today, then."

They moved through the rest of their morning in relative silence, unsure of each other because of the sudden huge shift in their relationship. Liza got dressed first while Roy made coffee and toast, then got some more of his clean clothes from her car so he could change. By the time they arrived back at the hospital, his head had cleared up and he was beginning to think about how he would manage working around his feelings for his Lieutenant. No idea was forthcoming. He was sure they both had the self-control to hide it while at the office, but even being seen together off-duty would be risky. He needed more time and energy to work this out, time and energy that already were being worn thin with worrying about the Elric brothers, the Homonculi, and now a possible military conspiracy.

When the pair arrived under Roy and Havoc's window at the back of the building, Roy discovered that the strain of climbing back up was too much for him. The bar fight had been the last bit of abuse that his body was willing to take, and his shoulders felt like they were on fire when he tried to use the drainpipe to get to the window.

Dropping back to the ground after his third attempt, Roy shook his head, grimacing. "I don't think I can do it. We'll have to find another way in, one that doesn't involve me climbing anything."

Liza was looking up at the window, which was still slightly open. From there her eyes followed the wall of the building, lighting up as she noticed a small door set into the wall. "That door…do you know what it's for?" she asked, pointing it out.

"Probably a secondary exit or something. You know, in case there's an emergency and they have to get people out."

Liza was already shrugging off her overcoat and handing it to Roy. "Please hold this for a moment, Sir," she said, wrapping one hand around the drainpipe and tugging on it to test its stability. Bracing her feet against the wall, she made her way up until she was next to the window. She could see Havoc's feet at the end of his bed. Using the windowsill to keep herself from falling, Liza knocked on the window. "Havoc!" she said, not too loudly so as not to alert anyone who might be passing by in the hallway, "Havoc, wake up!"

There was a mutter from inside that sounded like, "Five more minutes, Mom, I swear I'll be there on time…" Liza gave the window another sharp rap. "Havoc, either you can wake up or I can wake you up."

Havoc sat up, bringing his face into view in the window. "Hawkeye? How…this is the second floor!"

"Shh, keep it down!" She hissed. "We need a way to get Roy back in so he doesn't get in trouble. He got into a fight last night and can't get back up the drainpipe."

"Okay, well, why are you telling me?"

"Because you really, _really_ need a cigarette."

Havoc made a face. "You're damn right I do! They've cut me off for a month now and it's starting to get unbearable! If I could get up I'd…" he trailed off at the look on her face. "Oh. Riiiight. Okay, I need a cigarette."

"Good. Tell them you want to sit outside while you smoke it. That way they'll take you out the door that's over here. We'll be just around the corner." Liza shinned down the pipe until she was ten feet from the ground, then dropped the rest of the way, landing in a crouch. She took her coat back from Roy and put it on, leading him around the corner of the building so they could watch to see when Havoc came out.

From above, they could hear Havoc calling for the nurse, and his negotiations for a single cigarette. "Please? Just one! I'm going crazy!"

A few minutes later the back door opened and the nurse wheeled Havoc, who had lit up as soon as the door opened, into the sunlight. "I'll be making up the room. Call me again when you're done."

As the door started to swing closed, Liza darted out and caught it. Roy walked after her, limping slightly, and they went inside, leaving Havoc to enjoy his cigarette. The halls were quiet, and Liza got Roy back into his bed a few minutes before the nurse returned with Havoc, who looked calmer than he had in days now that his nicotine addiction had been assuaged. Once the orderly escorting him left, Liza closed the door and sat in her usual spot, a chair between the two beds.

"What's this I hear about a fight?" asked Havoc, looking at Roy curiously. "Did another Homunculus show up?"

"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid," said Roy, trying to remember back to the fight. Had he really used alchemy against unarmed citizens? _Well, almost unarmed_, he amended, remembering a certain pool cue. "I just…made a bad decision…So what's this I hear about you retiring?" Roy changed the subject, rather gracelessly.

Havoc, true to his easygoing nature, shrugged and went with the change. "Well, sir, seeing as how I can't be of much use in the field anymore, and I never was that great at desk work, I figured there was nothing left that I could do, so I'm gonna get myself a nice house somewhere and learn to fish."

The sound of the legs of Liza's chair scraping across the floor made Roy and Havoc look up at her, surprised. She was standing up with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, glaring at Havoc. "So that's it?" She asked, "You're just _giving up_?" The men glanced at each other, startled by her harsh tone. What had gotten into her?

Memories of that hellish night in the factory were flickering through Liza's mind. The feeling that had shocked through her when the homunculus told her Roy was dead, the weakness and disgust she'd felt for herself, the blame for not being strong enough to help him…and overlayed with those, the more recent thoughts of watching over her Colonel in the hospital, of covering for him last night…that kiss…and waking up in his arms…she flushed, but continued to keep eye contact with Havoc. "Even after what we saw at the factory? Even after knowing that the military we've believed in for so long, given our lives to, given our _souls_ to, might be covering this up? You'd leave, and take away another of the people we can trust, who are already so few?" She paused, waiting for an answer, but Havoc was so shocked and taken off guard that he couldn't say anything.

"Fine," said Liza, heading for the door, "Go enjoy your early retirement. See if I care." She closed the door behind her with slightly more force than was necessary, leaned against the wall next to it, and slid down to the ground, head in her hands. _What the hell are you doing?!_ She asked herself, staring at the tiled linoleum floor, at the stain near the wall on the other side that was shaped oddly like a rabbit, at the feet and occasional wheels passing by. No answer was forthcoming. She sat still, and waited for the constricted feeling in her throat to go away.

"Um," Said Havoc, staring at the door.

"I honestly have no idea…" said Roy. The two men looked at each other, thrown completely for a loop by Liza's uncharacteristic outburst.

After a few seconds, Roy broke the silence. "I really would prefer it if you'd stay, Havoc…but it's your decision whether or not to retire."

Havoc looked down at his feet, trying to feel them. He shook his head and laid back, hands behind his head.

Roy sighed, disappointed. He felt guilty about being the one who'd gotten Havoc into this mess in the first place, but even more he felt guilty about taking away Havoc's military career. Apart from womanizing and spending time learning how to shoot non-military-issue firearms, Havoc didn't have much in his life besides the military. He just…fit with the military lifestyle. But he wasn't cut out for paperwork, a trait he and Roy shared.

"Well…" said Havoc, speaking to the ceiling, "I guess I could get Schieska to teach me how to drive a desk."


End file.
